Friday, June 01, 2007

Family lore and legend.

Somehow the husbeast and I got to talking about this last night, one particular tale in the family history (one that lives in infamy), and the husbeast said I should put it on the blog. And I agreed that yeah, maybe on The Baby's birthday or some vaguely appropriate date, I would share. This morning I decided, today was good. There's no relevance in terms of date, but I've been at a loss for things to post on my blog during this Mystery Knit crap, so here you go. I'm including some back story so that you realize I'm just a lunatic, not an insensitive bitch.

I got pregnant in mid-December, while we were moving out of Hawaii. It was kind of planned, in that we were wanting to have a baby, but since I was 36 at the time we expected it to take longer than a month for me to get pregnant. (I'm still rather boggled over that one.) We spent thirty days staying at my in-laws, while our furniture caught up with us, and then drove down to South Carolina, rented a house, and moved in.

So, during the month we were at the in-laws, I was increasingly nauseated, gaggy at specific foods, tired, you name it. So we were wondering for about three weeks whether or not I was pregnant, and were waiting for me to be far enough along for a reliable pregnancy test. I bought an over-the-counter test and it was iffy (I hate those things), so I bought another one, and waited. Please note this: we'd been pretty sure I was pregnant for weeks before the events I am about to describe happened. It was not a huge shock.

In mid-January, we drove from Ohio to Charleston, and I was horribly nauseated the whole day. I threw up the last hour down the road (I know, ick, but I want you to understand the mood), and by the time we got checked in to the hotel, I was wiped out. I got out the other pregnancy test I had with me (one of those pee-on-a-stick deals), and wobbled off to see what was going on.

The husbeast was pacing the hotel room in a lather, timing the test and asking if there were results every ten seconds. (He really wanted a kid and was very excited, having not puked for the last hour.)

I came out of the bathroom, shouted "YOU KNOCKED ME UP, YOU FUCKER!" and threw the pee-stick at him.

Then I went back inside and threw up again. He cheered, called his parents immediately to share the good news, and didn't stop smiling for weeks.

I love your story! It is much better than mine, particularly because I WAS an insensitive bitch. I believe there were tears and a few choice words involved. Of course it was the best thing to ever happen to me.

That's hilarious--I hated those pee-stick things. I've always been totally irregular, so with the Cave-Troll, I had been taking them unsuccessfully for nine years, right? So I looked at the stick one day and sadly thought, "Oh look, there's a shadow where the positive line would be..." And the next week, I took the test, and thought, "Oh wait, that blue line is getting stronger..." And then I read the directions for the first nine years and went, "Holy Shit! That line isn't red anymore!!!"

Well, given the puking an' all, I'll forgive you the "in one month". Six years it took us, six years, so I hope you'll forgive me that I only actually vomited once -- the day I did the pee on a stick test.

12ish years ago, #1 Son and I accompanied the Mr. on a trip to Va Beach so that he could attend a conference and I could hang out with the then two year old. We took turns driving (the Mr. had somehow convinced me that this trip was about a third shorter than it really was) and I was the one driving as we passed DC. I screamed, cursed, cried and generally lost it while dealing with the Beltway traffic. The Mr. muttered under his breath that I was having the worst PMS ever. I'll never forget that moment, as I started to agree with him, I figured out that PMS was two weeks ago, I was pregnant.I started puking the next day and didn't stop until #2 Son was born 7 months later.

Backstory

I'm currently a stay at home mother, freelance writing on my off time, wondering how I became part of the ten thousand year old tradition of raising the kids while creating textiles.
I grew up in NE Ohio dairy country, married a sailor, lived in Hawaii ten years, lived in SC for five years, then moved back to culture shock and confusion.
Nothing but good times ahead.